


Growing Up

by leggyman



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: ALWAYS THE CHARACTER NOT THE PERSON, Abandonment Issues, Adoption, Adoptive Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Family, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Gen, Good Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Malnutrition, Minor car accidents, Mute Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Neglect, Panic, Panic Attacks, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Past Child Abuse, Self-Hatred, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29116812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leggyman/pseuds/leggyman
Summary: The story of how Philza Craft became a father(Re-write of 'Philza Becomes Dadza')
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 62
Kudos: 588





	1. It's A Wonder We Expect A Thing To Stay The Same At All

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags :-)  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil finds a disturbance in his shed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from "Theseus" by The Oh Hellos

Technoblade was not only Philza Craft’s first child, but also the one who was the most illegally acquired. Of course, Phil did rectify that through the courts and eventually legally adopted the boy, but the beginning of his stay was less than procedural.

It had all started on a cold, winter night. Having settled down in a place that experienced all four seasons to the fullest extent, the ground around Phil’s home was covered in knee-deep snow, more being added in the blizzard occurring at that moment. Phil had been relaxing on his couch, covered in a few layers of hand-made blankets, reading and sipping from a mug of hot chocolate. His fireplace served to warm up the cottage-like home, as well as provide ample enough light to read. Living alone and lacking any sort of interest to watch TV led to more sedentary hobbies, such as quilting and knitting (see: the blankets), and plenty of reading. Greek Mythology happened to be a current topic of interest for him, with a re-telling of Theseus’ story being the current book of choice. There was white noise in the form of wind and snow slapping the windows and walls of the home - loud, but not necessarily loud enough to be annoying.

The white noise was interrupted by the sound of a loud crash coming from outside, distinct against the monotony of the weather. Phil jumped, and gently laid his book upside down on the coffee table to mark his place. Usually, he’d leave any random noise be and chalk it up to an animal, but something in his gut told him to investigate. He unraveled himself from his cocoon of blankets, donned his jacket and boots, grabbed a flashlight, and ventured out into the storm. He lived in what was practically the definition of the middle of nowhere, surrounded by thick forestation with no human neighbors for at least a two-mile radius. Distantly, he registered that it was an awful idea to check out a noise, alone, unarmed except for a flashlight that only showed about a foot in front of him with the current storm, with no one to hear him if any emergency occurred. Nonetheless, he was plenty intrigued by where he thought the noise originated from.

It sounded too much like his metal shed to be a coincidence.

Phil pressed on through the snow (possibly hail at this point), feeling it soak through his pant legs when his boots sunk all the way through. After what felt like far too long, he was finally at the sizable shed, and he ripped open the door with a far easier time than he expected. It seemed as though the drifts that’d usually seal the door close during a blizzard had already been dislodged.

He scanned the space with his flashlight before settling on the cause of the disturbance. Both parties froze like a deer in headlights, seemingly taking in the other.

It was a boy, who could’ve been anywhere between the age of eight to ten. It was hard to tell, based on how malnourished and disheveled he was. He was quite short, and his most noticeable and definable feature was a mess of dark brown hair on his head. It looked shoulder length, but it was so tangled and matted it was probably much longer. Forest debris stuck out from all sides, and Phil couldn’t help but think that it probably hurt quite a bit, his own scalp tingling at the thought. Equally as concerning was the child’s lack of proper attire. He was only in a thin, long-sleeve shirt, soaked jeans that were practically capris despite his small height, and a pair of equally soaked running shoes. Either he had short socks or no socks, which was not the biggest issue but an issue nonetheless. He was violently shivering from head to toe, which made perfect sense as the shed felt like an icebox and Phil was wearing clothing suited for the awful weather.

“Hello,” Phil said in the gentlest, least-threatening voice he could muster, and that was when all hell broke loose.

The child tripped over a pile of shovels that were previously leaned against the wall, which Phil concluded had been the source of the noise. He landed on his forearms, swinging himself into a sitting position and scrambling into the back corner. He held his arms out in front of him in a protective manner clearly aiming to keep his face and upper chest safe. Phil could see he was hyperventilating, his rapid rise and fall of his chest only showing Phil how easily defined his ribs were, even from a distance. The boy’s eyes darted all around, presumably trying to find an escape route. Phil backed away as far as he could, holding his free hand up placatingly and still gripping the flashlight with the other.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Phil tried, feeling the blood drain from his face as the boy seemed to relax a bit. Mind you, he was still entirely tense, but at least he was making eye contact. He let out an internal curse for whoever had hurt the boy in previous, though.

“Would you like to come into my house?” Phil offered, not wanting to spend any more time letting the boy catch hypothermia, “You’ll freeze to death if you stay out here.”

They held eye contact for a bit, the kid seemingly weighing his options and figuring out which was the lesser of two evils. Eventually, he seemed to come to a decision and stood up. Phil had to leave the shed entirely before the other began to follow, maintaining a far distance the whole time.  _ Enough so that if I dived at him, he could still get away. _

Phil managed to coax the child to sit on the couch, and then went upstairs to fetch some of his own warmer clothes. They’d practically drown the small frame of the younger, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. He justified it as being ‘cozy’. He held the pile in his arms and made his way back to the living room to find the kid has moved as far into the corner as he could, almost sitting on the armrest itself. He passed the hand-knit sweater and the flannel pants to him before re-establishing the distance that visibly made the boy more comfortable.

“Do you want hot chocolate?” Phil softly asked. The other searched Phil’s eyes for a moment, looking for the presence of something before seemingly not finding it and giving a small, affirmative nod. Phil entered the kitchen that was situated right next to the living room and got to work, boiling milk and pondering the next move. He couldn’t help but think about how odd the situation was, as no child should be in that state to begin with, much less hiding in a stranger’s shed.

He decided to try and figure out the intricacies in the morning after the boy was (hopefully) a bit more comfortable. Nonetheless, he naturally jumped to conclusions and started trying to assess his own readiness. Something in the child sitting on his couch brought out parental instincts he didn’t even know he had. The want to love and keep the boy safe was all-consuming, and that feeling was frankly scary to him. Phil was never opposed to the idea of children, but it wasn’t something that was naturally appealing to him.

On a more practical standpoint, could he even functionally raise a child? The kid was clearly traumatized, and Phil had zero clues on how to properly parent. His own mother and father were mostly absent throughout his youth, so it wasn’t like he had anyone to look towards for help. Monetarily, he knew he could absolutely provide. He had a stay-at-home office job that was far too lucrative for just a single bachelor such as himself, and it often left him with more money than he knew what to do with. Hell, he already funneled a good portion of his paycheck into charity and he  _ still _ had too much in his eyes. Finances were no concern in the decision of what to do with the child.

Before he could ponder much further, the cocoa was ready. He walked out with both a mug for himself and a mug for the occupant of his couch, who was in the same position he’d left him in except now wearing Phil’s clothes. With a soft smile on his face, he set one down on the coffee table right in front of the boy, making his movements as deliberate and careful as possible, before backing away to almost the opposite end of the living room. He plopped into the plush armchair with his own mug. They spent a good few minutes in silence, both sipping the chocolate and Phil fiddling with loose threads on the armrest.

After the silence soured into something far more uncomfortable than how it even began, Phil decided to break it. “What’s your name?” Phil asked, still managing to startle the boy despite clearing his throat beforehand. There were plenty of other questions he had, but he figured to start it off simple and not too invasive. He wanted nothing more than the tension in the child’s limbs to fade, even slightly.

Instead of giving a verbal response, the boy used his pointer finger of the hand not clutching the mug to write a series of letters into the air.

_ T-E-C-H-N-O _ .

“Techno, aye?” Phil responded, receiving a nod. That threw a bit of a wrench into things, as Phil now presumed that the kid was mute (?), and Phil could barely fingerspell in ASL on a good day.

“Do your parents live around here?”

A shake of the head.

“Do you  _ have _ parents?”

A simple shrug.

Well, that was not at all useful. Phil didn’t know what that meant, and frankly, he figured both Techno and himself did not have nearly enough energy to unpack the meaning of that.

Using a similar method of communication, Phil figured out some more basic and less concerning information - the boy was ten, and his favorite color was pink - Phil resolved to go to sleep for the night. He showed Techno where the bathroom was, where Phil’s room was in case he needed anything (though something told him that the child would not wake him up for any reason, no matter how okay he insisted it was), and grabbed a pile of extra pillows and blankets from a hall closet. He turned off nearly all the lights in the living room except for a single lamp as a nightlight, and put out the fire, switching to a small space heater.

“Goodnight, Techno,” Phil said with a soft smile, fondness already littering his voice, watching as Techno nodded in response. He was a bit upset that Techno wasn’t utilizing the blankets and pillows he’d brought, but something else prompted internal celebration.  _ His shoulders lost a bit of the tension they had. _

As Phil climbed into his own bed, he tried to turn off his brain, knowing if he thought too hard about the messy situation he was now in, he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep. Quite frankly, not even his worst enemy deserved grumpy and sleep-deprived Phil, so he wanted at least a  _ few  _ good hours of sleep for the sake of Techno.

Despite not knowing much about the boy sleeping on his couch, he already knew he’d become attached.

Oh well, that was an issue for Tomorrow Phil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! To those who came from 'Philza Becomes Dadza', welcome back! To the newcomers, hello! I hope you all enjoyed reading (and continue to enjoy ??). Please let me know if I missed any tags and, in general, what you thought! I am fueled by any interaction :-)
> 
> Please stay safe, everyone!


	2. You Don't Make A Sound, It's All So Incredibly Loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil gives his lawyer-friend a call
> 
> \-----
> 
> Chapter Title from "It's All So Incredibly Loud" by Glass Animals

When Phil woke up the next morning, he put the first step of a poorly formulated plan into action, that being breakfast.

He ventured down the stairs, finding Techno still on the living room couch. The boy was wide awake, and Phil felt his heart warm with the state he was in. He was huddled in blankets, not only the ones that Phil had brought for him the previous night but also the ones he’d left on the couch when he’d gone to investigate the shed. Slender hands gripped the mythology book Phil had been reading, a look of pure fascination in his eyes. Entirely gone was the tenseness permeating his body. 

Well, that is until Techno noticed Phil standing there. He set the book down with as much haste as he could while treating the book like it was made of glass, and the stiffness reappeared. Phil, in a bout of optimism, took it as a win that he stayed cocooned in the blankets.

“Good morning, Techno,” Phil greeted, receiving a slight smile in response. He felt absolutely giddy, as it was the largest positive reaction Techno had shown towards him since being found in the shed. “Would you like some breakfast?”

For a short moment, Techno’s eyes lit up like Phil had never seen. It held the childish wonder that was supposed to be in a ten-year-old’s gaze. He nodded his head with ferocity, and stood to follow after the man. Phil tried not to think about how fucked up it was that a child got that excited at simply the  _ mention _ of food, but failed miserably. Instead, he motioned for Techno to sit back down, stating that they could eat in the living room together. Techno cocked his head, similar to that of a confused puppy, before sinking back into his blanket nest. Maintaining eye contact with Phil, he slowly picked the book back up. When Phil nodded his head in approval, he delved back into reading.

Phil whipped up some pancakes, sprinkling in a handful of blueberries and diced up strawberries into the batter. He hoped Techno wouldn’t mind, but he figured some fruit couldn’t hurt. It only registered to Phil that if Techno was as malnourished as he looked that he might not be able to handle solids, but he wouldn’t deny the boy the second he saw the elated face the other wore when walking out with the stack of flapjacks.

They ate their meals in silence (other than the sound of Techno wolfing his own pancakes down), Phil not wanting to ruin the moment. He figured a good course of action was to help the boy fix up the monstrosity that was his hair, and then see if he wanted to shower. He’d contact an old lawyer friend he had and figure out the best course of action before presenting Techno with the offer to live with him. Also, that was a new enough revelation. Phil figured that no matter what the home life of the boy was prior to the shed incident, the neglect was far too obvious for him to return. No matter, he’d rather figure out the technicalities first and go from there.

His mental to-do list sounded way too easy for how it turned out. The first order of business, attempting to un-do what the forest had done to Techno’s hair, was a struggle in itself. The physical task was daunting, but Phil had managed to overlook the mental task. The child didn’t want to be anywhere near close enough to Phil for him to even touch his hair. He did manage to curb some of the anxiety by giving the boy a sizable hand mirror so that Phil always remained in his line-of-sight, even behind him, but that only managed to satiate his nerves for about five minutes before they needed to take a break.

After around two hours of a variety of untangling by hand, comb, and sometimes simply cutting out the bits that were unsalvageable, Techno ended up with a fair amount of length still. The real test would be after it was washed, but Phil did mentally pat himself on the back for what he’d managed to accomplish.

He showed the boy how the handles worked for the shower, handed him a handful of shampoos, body washes and conditioners (Phil didn’t know what scent he liked, so he figured to play it safe and let him choose), a towel and washcloth, and fetched him another set of Phil’s clothes to change into. After double and triple-checking that Techno would be fine, he left the child to be and took up residence at the kitchen table to call his lawyer friend.

Techno was a bit overwhelmed, not just by shampoo options, but he would be lying if he said that Phil hadn’t been anything but nice thus far. He’d look back on his stay with fondness after he, inevitably, went back to living in whatever unlocked shed he could find (or tall tree, if the snow would ever let up).

He kept the shower lukewarm, hoping that Phil wouldn’t be too upset if he was caught with anything but ice cold. Even the moderate temperature was relaxing, though. It’d been a long time since Techno had gotten a proper shower that wasn’t in a river or standing outside in the rain. He’d stolen a bar of soap from a gas station a while back, but that had gone much quicker than he hoped.

As he ran shampoo through his hair, relishing in the way that it was actually possible to do as it hadn’t been in a while, he started to wonder what Phil wanted. No one was that nice for no reason. The man had let him sleep on a  _ couch _ , which was a luxury Techno didn’t think he was ever afforded in the past. Even during childhood, it was a pile of hay or the tiled floor of the house if he’d been on his best behavior.

Techno hoped it was working. He was an awful cook, but he was sure he could learn. Cleaning a house was familiar, and cleaning outside even more so. Working from dawn to dusk was something he could very much so do.

He didn’t think his own personal standards were high enough to leave if Phil decided he needed a bit of a punching bag to let out steam with. His own parents had done the same, and he could handle a good amount of pain. He’d do just about anything to sleep on that couch for another night, he realized. 

By the time the conditioner had washed out and Techno figured he’d already spent far too long in the shower, he came to the resolution that he’d have to be asked to leave if Phil wanted him out. He’d prove himself useful before that came to fruition, though, even if it killed him.

The call went better than expected. With some past documentation, a couple of vouches, and a handful of strings pulled, Phil was set up for a foster evaluation the next day, and Techno was allowed to stay with him until then. Phil was quite sure that the last bit was illegal, or at the very least not entirely up to code, but he wasn’t going to complain.

He hung up the phone just as Techno walked down the stairs. Phil practically melted at the boy’s appearance, looking like the child he was with freshly wet hair and bundled into the well-loved hoodie and fleece pants. “How was your shower?” Phil inquired. Techno nodded, presumably saying it went well. “Can we have a chat for a minute?”

Techno froze, before moving to sit on the chair diagonal from where Phil was sat, putting him as far away from the man as possible. Phil decided to not prolong the other’s panic and cut right to the chase - “I just got off of the phone with a lawyer friend of mine. Would you want to stay with me for a while, mate?”

Techno froze out of surprise, before loosening up slightly. His body language minutely changed from shock to curiosity in front of his eyes, and it only took about a minute before Techno nodded.

“Well then, mate, let’s get you settled in.”

Shopping was going to be an ‘experience’, that was for sure. Phil truly would give just about anything to not have to bring the already jumpy boy into a possibly crowded and definitely loud department store, but he’d shown up with nothing but the practically ruined clothes he’d been wearing, and Phil had nothing for children in his home.

Walking around the store, Techno still kept a bit of distance between himself and Phil, but he was much closer than he’d been before. Phil assumed the prospect of strangers being close was worse than the concept of the sort-of-stranger-but-also-sort-of-not-really that Phil was being close.

Throughout the trip, Phil paid most of his attention on Techno's body language, knowing the boy probably wouldn’t ask for anything no matter how badly he wanted it, and also to make sure he wasn’t getting too ridiculously overwhelmed. Whenever Techno’s eyes lit up even a little brighter or his gaze lingered on an item even remotely longer than usual, Phil would offer to buy it for him. Thankfully, it seemed that Techno didn’t have many qualms about accepting things offered to him, and his main issue was asking.

This method of shopping led to nice essential purchases, such as a fair amount of clothes and toys, and a particularly hefty amount of books. But, it also led to some, well,  _ odder  _ additions to the cart. Phil had a really hard time saying no to any form of Techno’s excitement, which led to getting bubblegum pink hair dye, about three bags of potatoes, and a plastic crown that Techno put on immediately in the store and showed no interest in taking off.

Phil counted on things going well far too soon. While Phil was grabbing three hoodies off of a rack, Techno got distracted by noise in a few aisles over. Phil turned around to ask him what he thought of the sweatshirts, only to find him not there. He dropped the hoodies into the cart and abandoned it, beginning to search. He called “Techno!” three times, before realizing that he wouldn’t actually respond.

He alerted a random employee, who put out a lookout order over the intercom, and continued to search. It took five minutes longer of panic before he was summoned to customer service over the loudspeaker. Standing there was Techno, head down but eyes darting around to the employees standing far too close to him.

Phil ran up to him, a smile on his face, stopping and bending down with Techno’s comfortable distance between them. Uncharacteristically, Techno immediately ran at him, and Phil pulled the child into a hug. He tried to shush him, in an attempt to stop his full-body shaking that began when he hit Phil’s arms.

Phil could only focus on the boy in his arms. He was filled with warmth, the panic of him going missing fading into unadulterated love and affection. If he could manage it, he’d never let go of his  son again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Hope you enjoyed! Please stay safe!


	3. But I Feel A Little Safer When I'm With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno's first day of school  
> \-----  
> Chapter Title from "Devil Town" by Cavetown

Legally fostering Techno also meant that a proper school was necessary. Phil managed to get him up to regular standards for the average fourth grader, preparing for the fall after he began fostering him. Techno’s natural intelligence and own yearning for knowledge made the process significantly easier than expected. As much as Phil didn’t want to part with him for reasons only known as ‘clinginess’, he was nowhere near qualified enough to correctly homeschool him farther than that. Plus, he knew how important school was for him. Techno needed to be around peers his own age, not just Phil and the squirrels that ransacked the bird feeders in the backyard.

Techno was clearly upset at having to go. He was dressed in his favorite red hoodie, pink hair braided back by Phil after a handful of Youtube tutorials, Minecraft backpack over his shoulder, and a scowl painted on his face. He dragged his feet as Phil held his hand as they walked to the bus stop. Phil was just as hesitant as Techno was, but he was an adult and much better at hiding it.

Phil had taken as many precautions as possible. He’d e-mailed Techno’s teacher and worked out a variety of possible issues, being triggers, the use of stim toys and hand-held comfort items, using a whiteboard for communication, not forcing Techno to communicate to begin with, and a handful more topics that could become problems in class. He wanted to make sure his  son would be as comfortable as possible.

He hugged Techno goodbye as the bus pulled up, and promised to be waiting to pick him up the moment the bell rang. He even had bought Techno a cheap pay-for-the-minute phone so he could text in case he ran late one day. Techno sent him a mean glare before going onto the school bus.

Techno was immediately overwhelmed. The bus was loud, metal walls trapping the shouts of hyper children, causing them to be nearly incomprehensible. He spotted an empty seat in the back, and made his way towards it. Techno had to run the gauntlet of peers all staring at the new kid, leaving him tense and nervous by the time he arrived. He curled up against the wall and grabbed around in his backpack before finding what he wanted. It was a stuffed pig that Phil had bought him on their first trip out. It had a felt crown sewed onto the top of its head by Phil after Techno took a liking to wearing a plastic crown around the house. He left the real crown at home, not wanting it to be wrecked (and also as it violated the dress code of ‘no costumes’), but the felt pig-crown was an adequate substitute.

He sat with the plush tucked into his lap, staring out the window and zoning out as an ineffective defense against the noise. No one sat next to him, which wasn’t too big of a bother in Techno’s eyes. He wouldn’t have talked to them anyway.

It wasn’t difficult to find his locker when he actually got to the school. It was clearly labeled ‘Technoblade’ on a green paper star tacked onto the front. He shoved his backpack in after taking out his whiteboard and fidget cube. He gently sat the stuffed pig on the top shelf, poking it once in the nose before closing the door and making his way to the classroom. Phil had made sure he knew his teacher’s name beforehand, which was nice as there was a surprising amount of fourth-grade teachers packed into the one hallway.

There was a single empty desk towards the back of the classroom with another paper name tag attached to the front. A few kids from the surrounding desks attempted to talk with him, but he just ignored them. He buried his face in his arms on top of the desk, and waited for the class to start.

Phil cursed any and all deities he could think of from any and all religions he could think of. He tried to remain calm as the teenager who had rear-ended him called the non-emergency police line in order to file a report. Nobody was injured, but for insurance sake, the kid wanted it recorded. This could not have happened at a more inconvenient time.

Phil quickly shot a text to Techno’s phone, knowing it’d be on silent mode so it wasn’t an issue to text during class. He tapped his foot impatiently, leaning against his driver’s side door, and waiting for the police to come.

Techno was on the verge of panicking. Okay, nevermind, he  _ was  _ panicking. Phil was ten minutes late. He rocked on his heels as his brain immediately dived to his greatest fears.  _ Either Phil was dead or he was sick of Techno.  _ Both options were equally as horrible. Both options meant that Phil was gone. The stuffed pig was being strangled against his chest. He wasn’t crying, but that didn’t mean that he was okay.

What had he done wrong? Phil said he loved him - he had even said so that very morning. Phil had promised never to leave him. But he wasn’t dead - he couldn’t be! He was Philza Craft! He couldn’t just  _ die _ . So he must’ve left. Maybe Techno not making his bed that morning had been the final straw. Maybe this was building up for a while. Maybe he’d been waiting for an excuse the entire time. After all, Phil never  _ really _ wanted Techno to begin with. Techno dumped himself on him by hiding in his shed. He’d just been too nice to give him the boot.

And now he was gone.

Phil pulled into the pick-up lane to see Techno shaking and holding the plush. He immediately parked (despite that being very impolite in regards to the pick-up procedure) and dove out of his front seat to get to his  son . He wrapped Techno into a hug before the boy even could recognize his presence.  _ He must’ve not checked his phone. _ Techno broke out into the widest grin he could muster, and Phil led him back to the car.

After buckling in, Phil began to pull away. Fuck, how could he have been late? It was the  _ first day _ . He was awful for not getting there quicker, or making sure Techno  _ knew _ . He should’ve called the-

“I’m happy you came.”

Phil’s self-berating was interrupted by Techno’s first words. He slammed onto the brakes and almost swerved into a tree out of pure shock. He threw his arm in front of Techno to keep him in place. After parking, he turned to his son with the widest smile. Techno’s smile replicated his own.

God, Phil loved this boy. Technoblade, his  _ son _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyo, hope you enjoyed! I am ignoring canon so have this instead!  
> Remember to stay hydrated and safe :-) love you /p


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